Tag Archives: McLeod Ganj

Chillin’ at the Dalai Lama’s residence

For the love of Peter Rabbit, as my Nana used to say, why am I still blogging about spring break?! It’s been more than a month.

Well, here’s why: With less than four weeks before we head Stateside for the summer, life is crazy busy. My calendar is packed with the usual stuff in addition to report card writing, physical therapy appointments for my wonky neck, rehearsals for the elementary school play, professional development workshops, summer travel planning, end-of-year social functions, and meetings, meetings, meetings. It seems I rarely have time to think, much less think about what I did over spring break.
Nevertheless, it’s time to wrap it up. So, make those Scooby Doo arm-waving gestures and doodly-doo sounds to take yourself back to April 4.

Theresa and I were hanging out in McLeod Ganj up in the mountain state of Himachal Pradesh.

Walking around town, I kept feeling an odd mash-up of deja vu and country-confusion. I KNEW I was in northern India, of course, but I kept seeing people, architecture, clothing and food reminiscent of my visit to Tibet in 2009, as well as market stalls stocked with Chinese-made souvenirs like so many I had seen and purchased while living in Shanghai. Sometimes I actually had to remind myself: You are in India, dummy.

The town has a distinctly Tibetan vibe because it is home to the Dalai Lama, Buddhist spiritual leader and, until recently, political leader of the Tibetan government-in-exile. (Last August, the Dalai Lama handed over his political responsibilities to Tibet’s first democratically elected prime minister, Lobsang Sangay.) This excerpt from a BBC profile of the Dalai Lama explains how this Indian town became a Tibetan settlement:

The 14th Dalai Lama was born on 6 July 1935, in a small village just outside the current boundaries of Tibet. His parents, who named him Lhamo Dhondub, were farmers with several other children. When he was two years old, a search party of Buddhist officials recognised him as the reincarnation of the 13 previous Dalai Lamas and he was enthroned before he turned four. He was educated at a monastery and went on to achieve the Geshe Lharampa Degree, a doctorate of Buddhist philosophy. But in 1950, when he was 15, the troops of Mao Tse-tung’s newly-installed Communist government marched into Tibet. As soldiers poured into the country, the Dalai Lama – his title means Ocean of Wisdom – assumed full power as head of state. In May 1951, China drew up a 17-point agreement legitimising Tibet’s incorporation into China. When Tibetans took to the streets in 1959 demanding an end to Chinese rule, troops crushed the revolt and thousands of protesters were killed. The Dalai Lama fled to India on foot and settled in Dharamsala, in the north of the country, which is now home to the Tibetan government-in-exile. He was followed into exile by about 80,000 Tibetans, most of whom settled in the same area.

The Dalai Lama’s residence and Tsug Lakhang Temple are simple and unassuming, painted mustard yellow. White sails rise up from the temple, similar to those at the Denver airport, providing cover but plenty of natural light. Wooden platforms with sliding handrests and knee pads lined the area in front of the Buddha shrine for prostrating pilgrims. I only saw a couple people use them; it seemed to be a quiet day in the temple.

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Monks were mending those cushions on the right.
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We learned later that the Dalai Lama had been teaching at a nearby monastery. One of my colleagues, Sue, had tickets to hear him speak, but she said the audience was too thick to see him and the FM radio that was supposed to transmit his talk in English malfunctioned. Still, she said she enjoyed his soothing voice, even if she couldn’t understand the words. We regretted not doing our homework and thus missing his talk, but then again, I’m not a fan of crowds.

A sign next the prayers wheels.
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Multi-generational blessings.
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Theresa gets in on the prayer wheel action.
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A monk was lighting candles in this small sanctuary.
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After turning all the prayer wheels in the temple, we headed outside to the “kora,” the circumambulation path. Buddhists walk the path clockwise in meditation. Trees along the path were draped with prayer flags, and other visitors had left colorful flat stones painted with Buddhist mantras. Benefactors funded sections of prayer wheels, marked with plaques explaining the blessings. The most common mantra was “om mani padme hum,” which calls forth blessings from the god of compassion. To learn more about the mantra, visit this excellent website: Om Mani Padme Hum – the Meaning of the Mantra in Tibetan Buddhism.

Cows numbered among the pilgrims on the path. Theresa tried to pose with them, but one poked her in the belly with its horn.
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I made a little movie so you could take a virtual walk on the kora! I love practicing yoga to the music of Deva Premal, and this recording of her chanting Om Mani Padme Hum is one of my favorites.

If you want to know more about the Dalai Lama, check out his website: His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama of Tibet.

Sightseeing in Himachal Pradesh

I don’t know why it was so hard to get out of bed each morning in McLeod Ganj! Was it the cool temperatures? Fresh air? Altitude? Tranquility? In New Delhi, we never escape the sounds of people and vehicles, but only chirping birds disturbed the total silence at our cottage here. On the morning of April 5, Theresa and I rolled out of bed, ate a quick breakfast in the Glenmoor’s dining area, and took off for some sightseeing. Our driver, Sanju, carefully maneuvered his little taxi on the rubble-strewn mountain roads, deftly zipping through hairpin curves and patiently yielding to other cars when two lanes suddenly and frequently became one, as we explored the Kangra Valley in the north Indian state of Himachal Pradesh.

First stop – Norbulingka Institute
The Norbulingka Institute is dedicated to the preservation of Tibetan art and culture. Passing through the archway, we entered a shady terraced garden with stone paths and narrow waterways.
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We eventually meandered to the Deden Tsuglagkhang, a temple housing a 14-foot gilded copper Buddha and many stunning paintings created by the institute’s artists. The temple’s rooftop offered excellent views of the town and mountains.
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Sipping a lemon soda at the café, I watched fuzzy seeds rain down from the trees and relished the peace created by gurgling fountains, greenery and omnipresent prayer flags. Here are some more shots from our visit to Norbulingka.

I like this quote by the Dalai Lama on Norbulingka (lifted from the institute’s website):

Buddhism changed the whole Tibetan way of life, giving rise to a more compassionate community, in which there is a more peaceful attitude towards ourselves, towards our fellow human beings, towards animals and towards the environment. In today’s world there’s a lot of talk about peace and non-violence, but the real factor in creating genuine peace is compassion, not just education and technology. Where there is compassion, a sense of community, a sense of respect for others’ rights is automatic. In order to promote compassion, it is not sufficient just to talk; it needs to be spread through example. I believe that our peaceful and compassionate Tibetan society is such an example; that’s why it is worth preserving, and I am pleased to see that in its work to keep Tibetan culture alive, the Norbulingka Institute is actively contributing to that task.

Next stop – Kangra Fort
Unsure of other sightseeing options in the area, we asked Sanju, our taxi driver for tips. He suggested a visit to Kangra Fort, so that’s what we did.
Believed to be the oldest fort in India, it was referenced by Alexander the Great in his war records from 326 B.C. and other accounts of wars dating back 3,500 years. Equipped with a surprisingly informative audio tour and headphones, Theresa and I trekked around the fort in the scorching sun. We climbed steep stairs, pausing in the shade of massive rock walls or flowering trees to listen to the fort’s bloody history.
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Posing at the entrance to the fort.
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At the top of these stairs …
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… there were some interesting carvings …
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… including this one of Ganesha, the elephant-headed Hindu god.
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Darshani Darwaza, a doorway leading to a shady courtyard, toppled pillars and a couple small temples.
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Inside the tiny temple.
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This carved wall reminded me of Angkor Wat in Cambodia, but the rest of the Kangra Fort’s ornate palace was destroyed in an earthquake.
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View of the river valley and the Himalayas.
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Here are a few more shots from our visit to the Kangra Fort.

The Indifest travel blog has a nice write-up of Kangra Fort, including this interesting statement.

This fort has the unique distinction of being ruled by great Hindu Kings, Muslim Invaders, Sikh Maharaja and Christian Rulers of British empire.

Back in McLeod Ganj, we asked Sanju to drop us off for a little shopping. Minutes after we exited the taxi, the sky burst open, blasting the market with hail and freezing rain. We stood under a market stall awning, hoping the storm would blow over quickly. When it didn’t, we called Sanju back to drive us the short distance to the McLlo Restaurant. Everyone and their mother had the same idea, so we crammed into a corner table and watched the poor suckers stuck in the rain outside.
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After a delicious dinner, we bought cakes to enjoy back at our cottage. They looked better than they tasted, but cake is always a good way to end a fun day!
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An ode to Glenmoor Cottages

Unless you live in a neighborhood that backs up to a noisy slum where residents frequently engage in late-night drumming and children play ball well after dark and clanking clunking construction continues by lamplight and cows announce their bedtime and dogs bark messages from house to house and traffic screeches and honks …
unless your daily life is fraught with ambient chaos …
then you simply cannot fully appreciate
the tranquility
of mountainside yoga
on a sunporch
with only bird songs
and pine
wafting in through open windows.

That is my spur-of-the-moment tribute to Glenmoor Cottages, a genuine place of peace in McLeod Ganj, an upper Dharamsala hill station in the Himalaya Mountains. The owner, Mr. Singh, is genteel and unwaveringly helpful. He relaxed with us in the yard over a cup of tea, chatting about Indian fiction and politics and pointing out a lake in the valley known for its migratory bird population.

Theresa and I arrived here on April 2 and happily threw open the windows of our little cottage overlooking the forest. At 6,300 feet above sea level, we found ourselves gasping for breath after the short trek up to reception. Too lazy to pursue food in town, we ordered tea and later a simple dinner delivered to our porch. We finally crashed at 8:30 and slept for 12 hours!

In Delhi, I feel pretty confident playing tour guide, but this was my first time to McLeod Ganj. For the last few months, Theresa had sent me emails with some of the sights she wanted to see here, so I left the trip planning to her. Unfortunately, she left her notes in a bag back at my house in Delhi. Without internet access at our cottage and lacking a good guidebook, we were pathetically disorganized. Still, we managed to see and do quite a bit during our three-day stay. At the end of each busy day, we both expressed such relief at coming “home” to our little cottage.
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